


Something To Burn

by seventhe



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/seventhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always something burning between Edge and Rydia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something To Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sister Coyote (sister_coyote)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_coyote/gifts).



Negotiations between them are awkward at best, downright hostile at worst, and Edge is thinking about retreating to a safe haven for the evening and choosing a much more appropriate battlefield tomorrow morning. Were he a smarter man, he might wonder why his mind always plays relations between himself and Rydia as a battle -- it's more like an ongoing war, really, constant skirmishes and sneak-attacks and _how does she always look so fresh,_ like a bright blooming flower in the midst of a grey day as she approaches him.

He checks his tongue right before he says that aloud, but it must have been written on his face, because Rydia gives a little sniff and walks right past him, angrily, her golden skirts rustling in her haste. He notices, a bit surprised, that she has learned to walk in formal shoes.

He doesn't know what he did. Edge has found that with Rydia, he _never_ knows what he did, and usually in attempting to find out what he did he starts at least four more battles and sometimes takes serious bodily injury. A wiser general would definitely retreat and regroup, and perhaps do a little reconnaisance before making another attempt.

Instead, Edge plucks two glasses of champagne from the table and heads off in search of bold green hair and bright-gold skirts; he's a ninja, not a general, and he always considered strategy lessons totally boring.

He finds her at Rosa's side, laughing at something, and for a moment he pauses to watch her; she's amused, but restrained, as if her mind's going in two directions at once. As he approaches, Rydia's gaze catches him, and she frowns, her cheeks flushing to life.

Edge bows, and in a moment of chivalry he's particularly proud of, offers the two glasses to Rosa and Rydia with a flourish, as if he hadn't been thinking about downing one of them right there.

Rydia says cooly, "So we're finally worth your notice," and Edge blinks for a moment; it's unlike her to cut right to the heart of the battle: usually she verbally bats him around first before letting him have it. His hesitance, however, appears to be unappreciated, as her face darkens a little. "Or maybe not," she murmurs, and sips her glass.

Rosa's eyes twinkle, and Edge's composure snaps back into place. "I'm merely saving the best for last, my darling," he says; "Once I'm in your company, I never want to leave your side."

She sniffs again, and Rosa makes an apologetic motion as if Cecil has just signaled for her presence -- although her eyes continue to twinkle, amusedly, as she leaves.

Rydia continues to look steadily away from him, and it isn't like her at all to avoid a confrontation when he's laying one at her feet so kindly. Her face is set in the stern smile he wishes she wouldn't use, because it looks _so_ fake, like she's trying to convince herself the world is just fine when it isn't.

"It figures," she says finally, her eyes still distant and a little hard, "that you show up to annoy me right _after_ I was hoping you would."

"I know you want me," Edge says automatically; and then her words register and he says, a little too loudly, "what?"

Rydia rolls her eyes and then picks at the stem of her champagne glass. "Don't worry about it now." She sounds a little resigned, and more than a little sad, and quite a bit irritated.

And she isn't scoffing at him and stalking away with her head high, which more than anything is a tell-tale sign to Edge that he has screwed _something_ up, royally. Rydia doesn't turn down fights, especially from him, and she's usually sparking with that low-lying fire beneath her skin he so loves to prod. He notices, belatedly, that she's wearing jewels: a large gleaming hunk of amber at her throat, unpolished and raw and lovely, and strung upon a thick chain of gold about her neck; it suits her.

"That's new." He keeps his voice low, and complimentary. Rydia blinks at him, and then notes his gaze. Pale fingers brush against the unfinished edges of the amber.

"It was a gift." Her words are clipped, but then she takes another sip of champagne and sighs. "From Asura. For good luck." Her last few words are tinged with irony and bitterness.

"Balls," Edge says, somewhat louder than he'd planned, and Rydia's startled look would have made him laugh had he not just remembered that tonight was the start of her bid for Mist's independency: she has been trying to rebuild, carefully taking no more aid from Baron than she would from any other nation, and keeping Mist decidedly neutral while doing so. He knows this, because he's been trying to force reparations money on her for months now, but she'll only take what she thinks is fair and diplomatic from Eblan's coffers. "How did it go?"

Her eyebrows furrow downward. "You care now?" she asks, her voice flaring a little, which catches the attention of a passing servant; Edge relieves him of two more glasses of champagne. "It might have been nice to have your support about an _hour_ ago, Edge."

"Eblan can't show support too strongly," Edge counters, leaping at the excuse for his absent-minded mistake; "it'll look like favoritism, since you and I are so close. Eblan needs to keep its distance, at least publically." He waggles his eyebrows. "If you'd like to negotiate in private, though..."

Rydia sighs and slams her glass down upon the table beside her. "I didn't mean Eblan's support, Edge," she says, her voice biting. "I meant _yours._"

And before Edge can think of any witty retorts - which is surprising, because usually champagne helps his tongue produce them faster than his brain-to-mouth filter can act - she's gone, in a whirl of bright green and gold.

\- - -

He'd like to say it isn't his fault, but it is. Somehow it always is, and he should stop being surprised at this and just accept that when Rydia's around, he's always going to screw up.

Luckily, she usually gives him a chance to make up for it.

Edge isn't a sneaky attractive professional sexy ninja for nothing, and he eventually finds Rydia wandering one of the halls of Baron Castle; she's admiring portraits, obstentibly, although the glower on her face doesn't bode well for the attractiveness of whichever ancient Queen she's examining at the moment. Edge keeps his footfalls quiet until he's right next to her, but he gives her ample warning; the last time he tried to surprise her, he got a face-full of Meteo and three hours of Rosa's concerned care. (Not that any attention from Rosa is a bad thing, but overall it hadn't been the outcome he'd been going for.)

She looks at him, her eyes smoldering. "You again," she says, her tone dismissive and angry as she quirks a questioning brow in challenge.

This is the Rydia he's more familiar with: sparking with fire beneath a glowing-green exterior, that spirit of hers switching so easily between excitement, passion, anger. There's something between them that ignites, always, smoldering between their words. "Can't get rid of me that easily," Edge quips, and steps up beside her to critically examine Queen Serah's portrait. "Not bad," he muses. "Needs a better hair-do, though."

Rydia huffs through her nose. It's an entirely un-lady-like sound, and the way her skirts ruffle as she moves is entirely incongruous. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

In fact - Edge looks her over, again, noticing things he would have noticed had he not been blinded by her beauty and his own stupidity: the gem at her neck, rings on her fingers; some sort of beads laced through her hair, which looks surprisingly tamed. "Why are you so dressed up?"

Her eyes narrow. "Because," she seethes, turning her blazing gaze back to poor Lady Serah with such force. She steps away, towards the next portrait, and Edge notes that she's now barefoot on Baron Castle's carpet. (This isn't unusual; Rydia came to her first three balls barefoot, despite Rosa's protests and best efforts.) "I thought Eblan had to keep its distance," she snaps back.

"It's okay, I'm not King right now," Edge says with a shrug, and then his brain starts to put it together: jewels and beads, dress and hair, restraint and decorum -- Rydia is playing a role tonight, much like he pretends to be royal only when it suits him the most. "So what did they think of Mist?"

She sighs, only part exasperation. "It's hard to say," she says, her voice easily cutting from anger to musing; "The story's well-known, so we have sympathy on our side, from every other place Baron burned to the ground."

Edge tries not to hiss. It's the kind of thing she'd never say in front of Cecil, and it makes him feel a little bit special, although it's pretty ungentlemanly to feel important because someone's village got torched when they were six by their only other best friend.

"But," she says, and her shoulders sag a bit - just a bit, and he wouldn't have noticed were he not watching the amber at her throat so closely - "people are still afraid of us."

And it hits him, the reason she's being so careful tonight: "Rydia," he says, urgently, and she turns to face him. The words are catching in his throat, and Edge hopes - very, very much - that he isn't wrong. She turns to face him, her eyes careful and bright, her expression contained and somehow wary at the same time; Edge hopes he's reading her correctly, because she and her monster-faces can be very hard to read (he blames Asura's nature; anyone with a three-faced mother-figure would grow up expressing emotions somewhat differently).

But he takes a step forward, his hands coming up gently to clutch her shoulders, and he doesn't know what to say. "You'll convince them," he says finally, and his voice is so soft it surprises him; "you've convinced them already. They just have to think about it."

"What do you know about it?" she snaps, although she doesn't step away. "They think we're _monsters,_ Edge," and he's right, because her mouth has that defensive twist it gets when she's really hurting.

"You're human enough." He reaches out, brushes his fingers against the amber at her neck. "If they can't see that, then they're a bunch of idiots."

Rydia shakes her head and turns away, taking a step back from him. "They don't see it. They see summoned monsters and the same threat Baron saw." She sniffs, a little, and her voice comes out hurt and stinging. "I'm ignorable even to you."

"Ignorable?" Edge snaps, harsher than he thought because that _hurts._ It's always like this between them: this battle, the neverending fire between them, his flaring temper igniting from her sparking spirit; there is always something to burn. "My secret gods, woman, I don't ever leave you alone, it's all you ever complain about. Ignorable?"

"It might have helped my case if someone other than Cecil had acknowledged I existed!" Rydia hisses.

"I didn't know." The words grind out of his mouth in hurt-anger. "I didn't know that I was supposed to help!" He takes a step back now, his emotions having gone from helpful to furious in no time. "You always say, leave me alone, go away, stop bothering me. I was trying to do you a favor, maybe. You could have asked, or said something, if you wanted help."

"Why is it always my job?" Rydia's eyes are bright now, and her fists clenched. "You don't offer anything, Edge, you're always just following me and bothering me and not treating me like I'm a decent human being--"

And this is too much; Edge takes a step forward, bringing his hand up to cup her face as he bends down to kiss her, _hard,_ because she's lovely and glittering and she does matter, more than anything. Her lips are warm, almost hot, and something sparks, the fire between them igniting into something greater.

"You are human," he says, breathy, when he breaks away, looking her right in the eyes, bending in to kiss her again; "you're human and beautiful and amazing, and if I had my way I'd follow you everywhere;" another kiss, and this time Rydia arches her back and kisses him back, and all the other words fly out of his mouth at the touch of her lips, that small sound she makes as he leans in more and wraps his arms around her.

\- - -

It's more like a truce than anything, the way Rydia wakes up in the morning already grumbling: "You're lying on my leg," she mumbles; "I can't feel my toes."

Edge knows that the war isn't actually over; that fire's still there, smoldering between them. It's what he likes best about Rydia, anyway.


End file.
